Marine Buddies
by EllieNoble
Summary: A slowly-expanding series of one-shots about everybody's favorite couple, Corabelle.
1. Sparring Partner

_Admiral Sengoku–with all due respect, Rocinante is the clumsiest recruit ever to join the ranks. I don't know what you see in the boy, but there has been no success in his training. It's unlikely he will ever become a full-fledged Marine at this rate…_

Sengoku wearily massaged his temples with the tips of his fingers as he recalled the rather terse conversation. The officer he'd charged with training young Rocinante had finally reached his limit of frustration, and had just departed from delivering the brusque message. It was now up to the marine Admiral to decide how to respond.  
Six years ago, he'd found Rocinante wandering the streets, covered in blood and sobbing. The boy had been so traumatized as to render him unspeaking beyond the occasional cry for his parents; the blood that stained his clothes wasn't his own. For several days after Sengoku had found him and taken him in, the boy had remained silent. Communication had been a frustrating game of yes-or-no questions.  
 _"How old are you?"_  
 _The boy held up his left hand, all fingers outspread. Then, he lifted his right, extending three fingers. Eight in total._  
 _"Do you have any parents?"_  
 _He shook his head._  
 _"Siblings? Brothers, sisters?"_  
 _The boy's amber eyes widened, bright with tears. Sengoku sensed that he had crossed an unspoken boundary, and hastened to divert the conversation._  
 _"Alright, then. You have a name, I assume?"_  
 _A nod. The Admiral spread his hands._  
 _"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what it is?" he chuckled, reaching towards his desk for a pen and paper._  
 _"Here." he said. "How about you just write it down?"_  
 _The boy accepted the pen and paper, and for several seconds, the only sound was the scratching of the metal tip. Then, he held it up; it read "Rocinante Donquixote" in large, childish capitals._  
 _He recognized the surname; the child was the son of a tenryubito, a Celestial Dragon. How had he ended up so far from home? Given the condition he found the boy in, the circumstances must have been disastrous._

Not much had changed in the years since Sengoku had taken Rocinante under his wing. The boy was still quiet and shy, preferring to listen rather than give his own thoughts; also, he was incurably clumsy, a character trait which had not been obvious at first. Knocking over his water glass once or twice was normal. Causing absolute destruction of government property, purely by accident, was another (but that was a long story). Rocinante had also refused to tell the Admiral any more about his past–not outright, but Sengoku noticed the signs and eventually stopped asking. The boy had an older brother who was still living, that much he knew.

It had originally been the elder man's intention to train Rocinante into a fine, upstanding marine along with all the other boys and girls his age. But after realizing his heritage, which could cause some political and social issues later on, Sengoku decided to bypass the usual first years as a zatsuyou and have him trained privately at the Marine HQ.  
Rocinante struggled, to say the least. Not that he wasn't strong; at fifteen, he was already over six feet and still climbing, with toned arms and legs from hours of grueling exercise. But he seemed to be cursed with two left feet, constantly tripping, falling over, unintentionally injuring the instructors, setting things on fire (even Sengoku wasn't sure how he managed to do that)…the list went on. When he did speak, most of what came out of his mouth were apologies.  
With a soft bleat, the Admiral's goat rubbed her horns affectionately against his hand, jerking him out of his reminiscence. He absentmindedly scratched the stubby hair behind her ears, still focused on the problem that was his adopted son. It was clearly time for a change in tactics. The boy had potential, he was certain–it was just a matter of uncovering it.  
His thoughts were disturbed by a commotion in the hall; striding over to the door of his office, Sengoku opened it and peered out. He chuckled at the sight: a girl, a new recruit judging by her uniform, was held arm-in-arm by two other low-ranking Marines who were desperately trying to take her somewhere, dodging flailing limbs and snapping teeth.  
"Now, now, what's going on?" he asked, stepping out in front of the group. The two subordinates froze at his appearance, dropped their hold on the girl and snapped into the Marine salute with a hearty,  
"Admiral Sengoku, SIR!"  
The girl stood up also, jerking her right arm stiffly into position. Her hair was a deep shade of scarlet, pulled into a ponytail that was mussed and loose from her struggle. With a narrow, pointed nose, curved eyebrows and deep-set blue eyes, she had a look of constant mischievousness.  
"Who's this?" Sengoku asked. The two Marines, which he now identified as privates, opened their mouths to reply, but the girl beat them to it.  
"M'name's Bellemere, sir."  
"And you have business with these two gentlemen?"  
"More specifically with Vice Admiral Garp, sir. The recruit was disruptive on the training field, sir." One private explained.  
"She attacked a fellow recruit and called him all sorts of names which are not repeatable in present company, sir." The other added. Bellemere glared at them, lips pursed.  
"That bad, I see." The touch of sarcasm in the Admiral's voice went unnoticed.  
"Yes, sir, and we were just on our way to deliver her to Vice Admiral Garp so he could administer the appropriate punishment."  
"That's all well and good, private, but why to Admiral Garp? There are plenty of lower-ranking officers who have the authority."  
"Vice Admiral Garp transferred Miss Bellemere to HQ under his custody, and requested that, should any problem arise, we report straight to him."  
"Begging your pardon, Admiral Sengoku sir, but I don't think I did anything wrong." Bellemere cut in.  
"Is that so?"  
The girl nodded, tipping her chin upward ever so slightly. "One of the recruits said girls can't fight worth a dang, so I taught him otherwise."  
"How badly was he injured?" he asked, struggling to maintain his stern demeanor.  
"Two black eyes, a swollen lip, and a broken nose." The private listed.  
The Admiral mused on this for a moment, gesturing for the trio to stand at ease. Then, he cleared his throat and began:  
"You realize, Miss Bellemere, that this offense cannot go unpunished. Since Vice Admiral Garp is currently absent, I shall take the responsibility of prescribing the appropriate consequences."  
Bellemere's eyes widened, but otherwise she gave no outward signs of fear.  
"There's a certain recruit in need of a sparring partner. He is, I think more of your caliber than this other unfortunate young man. As penance for your misdeeds, you shall train extra hours with him every night until I or Admiral Garp declare otherwise, starting today. Report to the sparring grounds after sunset. Dismissed." He waved his hand; the two privates moved to pull Bellemere away, but she shrugged off their grip and strode stiffly down the hall without their assistance.

xxxxx

Rocinante walked through the muggy night air, absentminded wrapping his knuckles with strips of cloth in preparation for the coming event. The news of a 'sparring partner' was mildly unsettling; Sengoku-san had been purposely obtuse with the details, which meant there was an ulterior motive. He'd been told multiple times over his years of training that he was all but 'hopeless', and was skeptical that a partner would help much–  
Crash! He misstepped, twisted his foot, and smacked down hard onto the concrete pavement leading up to the training grounds. Spitting gravel out of his mouth, Rocinante quickly ran his tongue over his teeth: all there. Good. He'd lost more than one of his baby teeth prematurely that way, and wasn't eager to repeat it now and go around with a permanent gap-toothed smile.  
He felt a warm trickle dripping down his neck; swiping at it with the back of his hand, he found an oozing cut across his chin from the fall. With a muttered curse, he resumed his pace towards the training grounds, watching carefully where he placed his feet.  
The building where all the Marine rookies practiced hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship was narrow and flat-topped, with thin sliding doors and no windows. As Rocinante approached, he could faintly hear the thuds of fists and feet against a punching bag, accompanied by high-pitched yells of effort. Palms sweaty with apprehension, he pushed open the screen and stepped inside. At first glance, the hall appeared empty. Then, in the far corner, he noticed a short, limber figure pounding into one of the hanging sandbags. With a start, he realized that the person was a girl–and not only that, but a girl hardly older than he was.  
She ceased her furious attacks and placed one hand on her hip, breathing heavily; she'd seen him.  
"Hey. Are you my partner?" Her voice echoed across the room.  
"Yes, I think so. Hello–" He stumbled out of the shadows, shoe catching on the tough carpet; he staggered forward several paces, collapsing onto his hands and knees. Her laugh rang in his ears.  
"This'll be easier than I thought." she said, still chuckling. Striding over, she extended a calloused hand. Rocinante accepted it and pulled himself to his feet where he stood, towering over her.  
"I'm Bellemere. Who're you?"  
"Rocinante." he replied, automatically. She quirked her lips and looked him over.  
"Nah, too long." she decided. "I'll just call you Stretch, okay?"  
The way she said it made it sound like there wasn't much of an option.  
"Only when we're alone." he conceded, kicking off his sandals and crouching into a fighting stance. Bellemere grinned widely, eyebrows lifting.  
"Right to business, then." she said, raising her fists.


	2. Partners in Crime

**A/N: This was born out of a Tumblr prompt, and I ended up expanding it for Corabelle week. Rocinante and Bellemere as Marine buddies is one of my favorite things… :3**

"This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."

Rocinante glanced up at the scarlet-haired woman in surprise.  
"Wait, really?" He'd assume she'd immediately veto the idea, but then again, this wasn't the first time he'd underestimated her. Bellemere shrugged, a roguish grin tugging at her lips.  
"Sure, why not. We're about to defy every single Marine protocol we've had pounded into our heads, go on an illegal solo mission that we're probably not prepared for, and rescue a couple of losers that the Navy has abandoned to an untimely death. No problem."  
Roci grimaced. "It's our only choice. We can't leave them there."  
"I know. That's why I'm in." She sat down next to him, a pensive gleam in her dark blue eyes. "You know, the Navy doesn't care if you live or die–only if you're useful or not." she said, quietly. "While you're alive, you're constantly being thrown in the face of death without a second thought. You survive, and they ask you to do it again. No matter what you do, it's not enough to satisfy them. Then, when you're killed, suddenly you're hailed as a hero." She shook her head in disgust, and her scarlet ponytail bobbed back and forth. "Which means losers like those two never will have a chance. The Navy will just let them die."  
"Unless we do something about it." added Rocinante.  
The 'losers' in question were a couple of Marine rookies who had gone out of their depth on their first mission and been snagged by pirates. They were currently being held for a ridiculously high ransom of ten billion beli, which the Navy refused to pay. At the moment, the pirates had not made any further attempt at communication; the situation remained a tense stalemate in which two lives hung in the balance.  
The two young Marines were about to snap that stalemate in two.

They approached the ship beneath the cover of both darkness and silence.  
"Your devil fruit power is really neat, Roci." Bellemere kept her voice low, despite the fact that nobody could hear them if they both screamed at the top of their lungs. "Despite what everyone else thinks."  
The blonde stumbled over a tree root, and she quickly steadied him with one arm. "Thanks." he said.  
"I mean, if it were me, I would have gotten a way cooler power, but yours is nice, too."  
He huffed a little sigh out of his nose, and didn't reply.  
The trees ended abruptly and the pair came out onto a wide, pebbly beach, dotted here and there with sea-smooth boulders. Sitting a few hundred yards away, the ship where the two Marines were being held bobbed lazily in the harbor. Bellemere was about to step out onto the sand when Roci pulled her back.  
"Let's review the plan first." he explained. She leaned against a tree while Roci tugged off his knapsack and began to take equipment out of it.  
"We have to get in there without being seen." He set two pistols, a bandolier, and two ropes with grappling hooks on the ground. "If the pirates get any suspicion that they're being attacked, they'll kill the hostages and then it's game over. We can't rely on just my ability to get us inside safely."  
"You're handling the explosives." Bellemere recited; they'd gone over this many times before. "While you cause a distraction on the main deck, I search the ship for the hostages."  
"And once you find them, bring them up, shove them in a lifeboat, and set sail. I'll be right behind you." finished Roci. He handed her one of the pistols, a grappling hook, and a bowie knife, all of which she shoved in her belt. Then, he strapped the bandolier across his chest, secured the other firearm in his waistband, and slung the rope with the attached hook over his shoulder.  
"One last thing–" He placed his hand on Bellemere's head and uttered, "Calm!"  
Bellemere moved her lips soundlessly and gave him a thumbs-up.  
"There's no communication from now on." he warned. "That's the only drawback to this plan: if one of us is in trouble, they're on their own."

Bellemere heard the explosion from above deck, followed by angry screams and shouts; she allowed herself a grim smile as she continued to comb the lower layers of the ship. The two drunk pirates she'd encountered in the galley had been ridiculously easy to knock out; a simple pistol-whip across the head and they were down for the count.  
"If this is all we're up against, how did those two get captured anyway?" she said out loud, arms akimbo. Then, she heard muffled grunting, and her reflexes brought her crouching low to the ground, gun cocked and ready. Eyes darting from corner to corner, she finally landed on the source: a large crate. No, something behind the large crate.  
She kicked it away soundlessly to reveal the two bedraggled Marines, tied back-to-back and gagged. The two boys were younger than her, hardly out of their teens; both were terrified. Their eyes widened when they saw her, and they immediately began trying to talk through their gags.  
"Shut up!" she hissed. Remembering that although she could hear them, they couldn't hear her, she thrust a finger against her lips, raised her eyebrows, and glared. They got the message. Tugging the bowie knife from her belt, she cut their bonds and pulled the gags off from their mouths. As they got to their feet, one started to thank her, but stopped at Bellemere's furious hand motions.  
Cursing this wrinkle in the plan that neither she nor Roci had considered, Bellemere crooked one finger, indicating for the two boys to follow her up the stairs.  
 _Crack!_  
The bullet missed her by a hair, shattering the woodwork behind her. She whirled around to face the captain of the ship. He didn't look like this was one of his best nights: his face was smudged with charcoal, his beard was charred, and a long, nasty cut ran lengthwise across his voluminous nose.  
And judging by the raised pistol in one hand and the scimitar in the other, he wasn't too happy to see them.

Up on the deck, all hell had broken loose. Rocinante was in his element, dodging potential danger and yet purposely adding to the chaos in tiny, infuriating ways. The mid-deck area had been blown to splinters, there were fires burning everywhere, everyone was running around screaming– he was having a wonderful time. Every few minutes, he'd conceal himself, let off a few gunshots, and then dash to another location, once again cloaked under his orb of silence.  
Where was Bellemere, though? She should have been up by now. Doubt pricked him, and he wondered if he should go belowdecks and check on her, just to make sure. No–if he left, eventually the pirates would figure out what was going on. He had to maintain the illusion of an organized attack until Bellemere returned. Several more minutes passed as he continued to spread pandemonium, and still no sign of her or the hostages.  
Okay, now he was getting worried.  
He crouched by the bulwark on the starboard side of the ship; this gave him the best vantage point and the safest proximity to the lifeboats. His gaze scanned the frantic scene, searching for a flash of burgundy hair, a wave, a signal, anything.  
That's it. He was going to look for her.

Bellemere hurtled herself up the stairs with abandon, clutching the wrist of each Marine tightly in her hands. They stumbled behind her, startled by the cracking pace she set. She no longer cared about stealth; they had to get out, and fast. She'd managed to fight off the furious captain temporarily, but he was close behind and gaining, spewing curses at the unlucky trio. Once up on the decks, Bellemere spotted Rocinante on the opposite side and raced towards him, screaming,  
"LOWER THE BOAT, ROCINANTE, LOWER THE–"

Before leaving his hiding spot, Rocinante eliminated his shield of silence. He'd need to fire a couple more gunshots just to keep the element of panic in the air while he went to search for her.  
"–BOOOAAAAT!"  
The screech nearly made him jump out of his skin; leaping up, he had just enough time to grasp that (a. Bellemere was the one shouting at him (b. she'd found the Marines and (c. he'd somehow removed her "Calm" spell by accident, before she and the two hostages rammed into him like an infuriated rhino. The four of them spilled over the bulwark and plummeted towards the ocean below…

"Just _what_ exactly," Sengoku's eyebrows were furrowed, tone dangerously calm as he assaulted the two Marines with his words. "prompted you to disobey direct orders, steal government equipment, and attempt a rescue that could have claimed both your lives?"  
"We couldn't let the hostages die, sir!" Bellemere blurted, standing stiff at attention.  
"And it was my idea, sir." added Rocinante faintly.  
"You're fortunate I don't kick you both out of the Navy right now." he said gruffly, scowling at them. The pair wilted slightly; both were exhausted by the night's fiasco, have just barely escaped with the hostages in tow. Sengoku scanned them both, his gaze ending on the puddles of seawater collecting beneath their feet.  
"Why are you both soaking wet?" he demanded.  
"We fell off the ship, sir." explained Bellemere. The Admiral's expression twisted as he stifled a laugh.  
"All of you? Did you, ah–" he gestured to Rocinante–"have trouble getting this one back to shore? I'm surprised both of you didn't drown."  
"I had help from the other two Marines, sir." Bellemere couldn't resist from grinning at her partner, who blushed furiously. Sengoku controlled his mirth and resumed a stern demeanor.  
"That said, I'm afraid this action cannot go without punishment–especially since I had organized a team who were there that very night to rescue the hostages. Because of your interference, they were unable to complete their mission."  
"Wait, are you saying there were Marines undercover in the pirate crew?" Bellemere was mortified, and in her surprise, she dropped the formal address. "You were planning on rescuing them all along?"  
"Why, yes. Did you think we wouldn't?" asked Sengoku, mildly.  
She turned bright red and didn't answer.  
"As due penalty for your irresponsible actions, theft of government property, and absolute disregard for authority, both of you are being–"  
The two Marines flinched in anticipation.  
"–promoted."  
There were audible gasps. Rocinante could hardly believe his ears. He'd been certain that this was the end, that he was finished–and now he was being rewarded?  
"Beg pardon, sir? I think I've still got salt water in my ear, 'cause I could have sworn you said 'promoted'." Bellemere raised her eyebrows.  
Sengoku waved a hand and chuckled. "At ease."  
They seated themselves on two chairs before Sengoku's desk, their wet clothing soaking the plush seats. For several awkward moments, no words were exchanged as the Admiral poured tea into three handleless cups.  
"Senbei crackers, anyone? No? Alright, more for me." The Admiral seated himself across from them.  
"Sengoku-san…" Rocinante paused. "What do you mean, 'promoted'?"  
"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? I mean that you and Miss Bellemere are both captains. Honestly, how many times do I have to explain it? Now, if you're not going to drink your tea–" Neither had touched the cups, but remained frozen in their seats at this startling revelation. "then you should go clean up and get a good night's rest. I'll have your new uniforms and instructions issued in the morning. Dismissed!"


	3. Promises, Promises (pt 1)

Captain Bellemere suppressed a mild grin as all the men under her command erupted into cheers at the announcement of their new assignment: taking down a rogue insurgent group in East Blue.

"We'll follow you anywhere, Captain!"

"Bellemere-san is the best!"

"Those good-for-nothing pirates won't know what hit them!"

With a wave of her gloved hand, the scarlet-haired woman cut off further adulation, and dismissed them to their barracks. The Marine squadron of H-7 filed out one by one; she watched them go, mentally tagging each one with a name. They were good friends, and good soldiers–if not a bit doting at times. Though they gave her the respect due to her rank, there were a few who were clearly infatuated with their attractive, young superior officer. Bellemere had to admit to herself that her flirtatious ways did not do anything to dispel their affections.

Once alone, she allowed herself the luxury of a wide yawn, gathering her belongings and preparing to depart for her own private barracks. The next morning would be an early one; she and her division would be meeting with a couple bounty hunters who had the dibs on the rebel group's location. The Navy had doled out a hefty sum to get the information, and Bellemere was prepared to take extreme measures if money was not enough of a motivator.

"They absolutely adore you, don't they?"

The voice made her jump, staggering backwards a few paces in surprise.

"Rocinante!"

The blonde stepped out from the corner–where he'd apparently been waiting this entire time, unnoticed–and approached, arms folded across his chest. It'd been months, almost a year, since she'd seen him last, and she was not pleased to see that he had changed. He'd sprouted another six inches, for one thing, as if his previous height of nine feet wasn't enough. Looking up at his face made her neck hurt. There was something else, also–an alteration in his face and demeanor, an unfamiliar hardness. His eyes were muted and somber, almost mournful.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Ever since we were assigned our separate divisions, I haven't seen or heard anything about you."

"I wasn't assigned a division. Well, not exactly." He licked his lips, shifting his position awkwardly. "Can we talk outside? It's a little…confining in here."

She noted that he had to slouch in order to prevent his head from hitting the low ceiling. "Sure."

—

"So, what's up?" Glowing cigarette poised between her lips, Bellemere handed the lighter to Roci, who dropped it and fumbled for several seconds before finally grasping it once more. In the process of lighting his cigarette, he somehow managed to set the sleeve of his jacket on fire. Bellemere's cry of alarm caused him to spring to his feet and strip off his outer layer, smothering the flame before it spread. "Happens all the time." he said casually, seating himself beside her. Eyebrows raised, she took the opportunity provided by his short-sleeved shirt to admire his well-cut figure; he definitely hadn't been that muscled half a year ago. _Were those scars?_

There was silence as they rested beneath the brooding half-moon, exhaling smoke into the dank night air.

"I've been promoted again." Roci said at last.

"Really?" Bellemere's voice spiked upwards, and her lips peaked into a grin. "What are you now? Rear admiral?"

"No, no." he laughed. "Lieutenant Colonel."

"I figured you'd pass me up one of these days. Not that I'm jealous or anything."

"I don't see any reason to be. You've got a nice division, from what I can tell."

"Yeah, they're great guys. Real sweet." She paused, thinking over the words they had exchanged inside. "What did you mean when you said you were never assigned a division?"

Roci took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette. "There's only so much I can tell you, since you're a lower-ranking officer. No offense."

She nodded gracefully. "None taken."

"But the whole 'division' nonsense–that was just a cover story, so people wouldn't ask questions. I've been involved in heavy reconnaissance work for months now."

"You mean patrolling? Communications?" She couldn't understand why it had to be such a huge secret.

"No. Infiltration, stealth, information recovery. Not all situations call for an entire battalion. Sometimes it just requires one or two people to get the job done." He looked uncomfortable. "I probably shouldn't be telling you even this much."

"Hey, it's alright. My lips are sealed." She gestured with one finger. "Go on."

He cleared his throat. "I can't tell you what I do, exactly, or who I'm involved with. But…" There was a heaviness in his voice; his cigarette slowly burnt down to a stub, forgotten. Standing up, he dropped the dying embers and scrubbed them into the ground with his boot heel. Bellemere remained sitting, legs crossed, her line of sight barely reaching his waist. Her gaze landed on his arms again; the pale moonlight revealed odd, milky abrasions in his skin, starting from his wrists and disappearing up into his shirtsleeves. They were scars, she realized. Just as she opened her mouth to ask about them, he turned to face her, drawing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it.

"HQ issued new wanted posters this morning."

She took the paper and smoothed it out. _Donquixote Doflamingo_ , the poster read. Ah, she remembered this one. He'd rocketed to infamy following the escape of Golden-Lion Shiki. Other than a few events here and there that caught her attention, she hadn't kept track of his movements, but he'd been one of those names that had always remained in the back of her mind as a possible threat. Her eyes lingered momentarily on the pirate's bounty, incredibly high for a rookie that young. With a frown, she glanced up. "He has your last name. Is he…?"

Rocinante nodded. "He's my brother."

She stared at the poster, unseeing, as her mind tried to absorb this revelation. It had been under her nose all this time–but she had never expected two people with such totally opposite values and backgrounds to be related. "There'd better be a fantastic explanation behind this. Were you two separated at birth or something? How did you end up being a Marine, while he's a pirate?"

"It's a long story, but I really don't have the time to tell it at the moment. The reason I came to talk to you is that I've decided to go after him."

She folded up the poster and handed it to him. "Why now?"

"He's started recruiting children. I've been personally following his movements over the last several months, and judging by recent sightings, he's got at least twenty kids in his pirate crew, all under the age of thirteen." His words were laced with unbridled disgust. "God knows how he found them all, but from the looks of it, he's training them to be his little soldiers." Rocinante sat down, interlacing his knuckles and clenching them tightly. "I've got to stop him."

Bellemere bit her lip, tapping the ashes from her cigarette.

"If I were to infiltrate his crew," he continued, "I'll have the advantage over any other Marine because I'm related to Doflamingo by blood. He'll trust me. I could scare away those kids, feed information to the Navy about the crew's movements, and maybe bring their entire operation to a halt. I could make a difference, Bellemere."

"Roci…" she trailed off. "Just because you're his brother doesn't mean you're personally responsible for his actions."

"Yes, I am." he insisted, brows knitted in agitation. "Now that I know I can help better than anyone else, I can't ignore the situation and do nothing. If I walk away now and wait for someone else to step in, that's not justice. That's indifference."

She sighed, closing her eyes wearily. "I understand. I hate the thought of children being used like that, too. But you're risking too much on the assumption that he'll trust you. If he has even the slightest doubt at the beginning, this whole plan will fall apart. How long has it been since the two of you saw each other?"

"About eleven years."

"You'd better have one heck of an alibi."

Rocinante nodded grimly. "That's the hard part."

They were silent for a while; the passage of time was almost tangible as they waited in the dark. Now that Roci had said his fill, he slipped back to his normal, unassuming self, more partial to listening rather than speaking. Then, something occurred to her.

"What if you were a mute?" she suggested.

He cocked an eyebrow.

"If you made it clear from the start that you couldn't speak, then fewer questions would be asked. You could express yourself through writing instead."

His eyes lit up. "I could play the fool. The silent, clumsy nobody, the last person anyone would suspect."

"Exactly!"

"Well, that's brilliant. I'm all of those already."

The two of them burst into laughter, sharing in a rare moment of innocent amusement.

"When do you leave?" Her question dimmed the mood considerably; Rocinante sobered.

"Sengoku-san has cleared the mission; it's just a matter of pinning down Doflamingo's location and setting up a meeting."

"And it's all improvisation from there."

"For the most part, yes." He got to his feet, picking up his singed coat and draping it over one arm. "I need to get back to HQ and finalize the last few details."

"Right." She wouldn't tell him she was already sick with worry.

"Thank you for hearing me out. I didn't want to leave without letting you know."

On the verge of walking away, he suddenly changed his mind in mid-step, turning around and enveloping her in the hug she'd been waiting for all night. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, firm yet gentle and welcoming. Warm.

"I missed you." she whispered, leaning in and accepting his embrace.

"Mm. I missed you, too. It got pretty boring without you raising hell every five minutes." His soft, reminiscent chuckle tickled the top of her ears; tingles rippled down her spine as his fingers entwined themselves into her ponytail. "Promise me you'll stay safe?" she asked, quietly.

"I'll do my best."

The overwhelming dread gnawing at her stomach refused to settle; watching him walk away and disappear into the twilight left her cold and hollow. She couldn't shake the notion that she'd gotten him back only to lose him all over again.


End file.
